


Read

by rachel6141997



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brothers, Fluff, Gen, Reading Aloud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel6141997/pseuds/rachel6141997
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When they are young, Sherlock enjoys reading aloud. Mycroft enjoys listening." </p><p>A response- Mycroft needs comfort.</p><p>So does Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Read

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Listen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/385298) by [lifeinabox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeinabox/pseuds/lifeinabox). 



> Inspired by "Listen", a follow-up.
> 
> Because I love Holmes Brothers fics, and because I'm such a softy.

It was such a simple thing, and yet it had profound consequences.

Often, Mycroft reflected that if he had moved an instant earlier, if he had been just a mite more careful, it never would have happened.

 

As it was, he ended up in the hospital after being blinded by a random assault using an extreme form of mace.

It wasn't permanant, they told him- his vision would return to it's previous perfection after one simple surgury- the downside being he would have to stay blindfolded, with no ligh whatsoever getting in, for a month.

Beyond the repurcussions with work, there was his personal life to consider. He was nearly helpless. He couldn't cook, clean, write, draw, or even read. He couldn't take care of himself at all.

 

He was going to have Anthea stay with him, but no one was more surpised than he at who stepped forward instead.

"Don't be ridiculous, Mycroft, you can't have Anthea take care of you- she has to stand in for you as British Government. I am perfectly capable of taking care of you."

"You can't even take care of yourself," Mycroft said, scowling in the direction of Sherlock's voice. His suspicion was confirmed when Sherlock's next words came from the opposite direction.

"Again, don't be ridiculous. I can perfectly well take care of myself. It's just much more enjoyable to make John do it."

"Stop moving, it's not polite. Fine. But you may  _not_ use my chemistry set." Mycroft could almost hear Sherlock pout.

 

***

 

Sherlock moved in right away. John was close to dancing, and Sherlock was not amused. 

"He's leaving, he's leaving, leaving me alone," John carrolled as he practically pushed his flatmate out the door. Sherlock smiled nastily.

"I wouldn't count on that, John," he said, before disappearing into the bowels of a taxi, smirking all the way to Mycroft's at the look on his friend's face.

 

It was an awkward few days before Mycroft broke.

"Damn it, Sherlock, tell me what's happening!"

"What?" Sherlock's surprise wasn't feigned. He had been absorbed in a book for the last five mintutes, and had thought Mycroft was equally absorbed in listening to his portable audio player.

"I can't stand it," Mycroft seethed. "All I know is from what I hear, and it's not accurate enough to tell me what's going on. I know nothing except that you're reading a book, and even that's a guess, based on that you prefer a book to a magazine! I don't know what you're reading, or wether or not you're enjoying it."

SHerlock eyed his brother for a moment, before saying, "I am reading _A Guide to One Thousand Types of Clouds._ It's for a case, and no, I'm not particularly enjoying it. Fascinating as it is, I will probably delete it after I prove it was the brother, and not the wife." Mycroft looked pensive for a few moments, before silently nodding his thanks.

***

 

It was three days after that when it happened. Mycroft was dozing when he heard his brother's voice, low, but changing in cadence and volume. Still half asleep, he was alert enough to notice idly that Sherlock made even a treatise on the digestive system of various tapeworms sound intriguing. He was smiling, enjoying hearing Sherlock read when he stopped abruptly.

"You're awake."

"Novel observation," Mycroft said drily.

"I thought you were asleep." His words, _Otherwise, I wouldn't have read aloud,_  remained unspoken, but were heard all the same. Mycroft hesitated.

"There is a book, on the shelf by the mantlepiece. Would..." he trailed off, then forged on. "Would you read it to me?" Then he cringed, sure he would hear Sherlock's voice, contemptful, amused. But instead he heard the creak of an armchair, light footsteps across the room and back, and a peculiar sound he recognized from his childhood as Sherlock abusing the chair. The opening of a book, the sound of dry paper turning.

"Pirates." The word hung in the air, as though Sherlock has only just noticed the subject matter, although he had likely done so as soon as Mycroft mentioned the book.

"I've never forgotten." He could hear the smile in his voice. It was there in Sherlock's as well.

"Neither have I."

 

And then he began.

"Years ago, there sailed upon the Seven Seas one ship whose name struck fear into the heart of every sailor, naval man, fisherman, or pirate alike. She was captained by the merciless Pirate Jack Giant-Slayer, and her name was the _Green Man's Folly_. The pirate and his crew were fearsome to behold..."

 

Mycroft leaned back in his chair and listened, silver words bring light to the darkness.


End file.
